


Just a little bit colder...

by rotburn



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Changelings, Dark Character, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Monsters, Wishes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-15 16:09:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17531936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotburn/pseuds/rotburn
Summary: No one ever saw him.And he was starving... So very hungry for attention.He craved existence.Just a watcher among spirits, Jack found an answer in the darkness.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do Not own this movie or book series.

 

~*.*~

 

~*Prologue*~

 

It was just another day in late January.

 

The sun was shining through a cluster of clouds, melting the layers of white snow into a wet slush. Birds were fluttering around the tops of naked trees and chasing one another along the spires of an iron wrought fence.

 

Just below the fluttering excitement, marched four men clad in black, sunlight gleamed off the polished cedar held between them as they approached a gathering that stood huddled together. The funeral procession was small and quiet.

 

A mother clasped the hand of her weeping daughter while the low drone from the pastor gave meager blessings to the newly dead. The casket sat at four feet in length, sealing the corpse away from silent stares. Instead, those that attended focused on the photograph of a laughing boy framed by a wreath of false dandelions.

 

Of the handful of children that went, more than half cried with their round faces pressed to the shirts and bosoms of mournful parents. Mothers and fathers with grim faces seemed to lean forward and shield them with their bodies alone, offering shelter against the harsh realities of the world. They knew how fragile peace could be. Knew how easily death may reach out and pluck the innocent souls like one would a flower. And like the dandelion, blow a wish that would never come true.

 

As the man of cloth ended the eulogy with a prayer, snowflakes drifted down from the thickening clouds. Several eyes peered upward to note the last vestiges of winter making itself known. Weather reports that morning had hinted that there would be one final frost before spring came early.  

 

Soon the coffin was lowered. The wood casing met with the cold ground as shadows engulfed the casket, similar with a mocking embrace. With a slight gesture, the gravediggers took to task, filling shovels and upturning the contents into the rectangular hole in the earth. One by one members of the group broke off and trailed along the path of tombstones. Few were left when the man of cloth stepped around the workers and took the stricken family back to the gates. Following numbly, the mother and daughter disappeared into one of the sleek vehicles that drove away from the local Burgess Cemetery.

 

The gravediggers finished covering the fresh grave just as the sky began to tint with orange and red. At the sound of the small stone church’s bell, they gathered their supplies and trudged off with naught a word shared between them.

 

In the growing stillness, the snow began to thicken, coating the exposed soil.

 

Long after the sunset a storm of ice and hail came and went in the blink of an eye, and as Friday morning was met with not a single trace of frost, it was spread around town, that if one had stood close enough to Jamie Bennett’s grave during that time, one could have heard a voice on the wind wailing in grief.

 

But that was just a legend.

 

~*Prologue End*~

 

~*.*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story begins with one of those 'what-ifs' where Jack Frost never became a Guardian of Children.  
> The death of Jamie Bennett chilled his heart, which has later repercussions on his own core and how he interacts with the Big Four.  
> For the next, longer chapter, (for this weekend), we'll be seeing a freshly bitter Jack and his view of the Guardians from a distance, including some other unsavory characters that start to shape his resentful life as an unseen spirit.


	2. A Shade in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in italics because it is set in the past. All past chapters may have time skips, but they are in chronological order with one another, just as the regular chapters move forward in time. Another quirk is that all flashbacks will be from Pitch's POV and the regular chapters from Jack's.
> 
> Originally I was going to keep this part with the main body, but it went well over 500 words for a flashback. So I've decided to have longer flashback chapters of their own. Which in turn is probably going to double this story's length. Yay? I know that I originally said I was going to post this past weekend- the difficulties circulated mostly with the beginning of this flashback and realizing that I wanted actual facts meshed into the fiction, so I had to do a bit of research. Please keep in mind that my educational focus is not in history, nor have I properly read the Guardian books. So forgive and just enjoy this somewhat alternate reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my first few reviewers and those who've left kudos! I know there wasn't exactly much to respond to in the prologue, but you folks still reacted, so I was pleasantly surprised.

_~*.*~_

 

_~*A Shade In the Night*~_

 

_11 Feb 1704 b.c.e_

 

_Stalking through the shadows of a little village, Pitch Black reminisced on the progression of the sleepy populace of Dutch descendants. It has already been a couple hundred years that European peoples began settling into the New World, bringing their discord, disease, and distress... bringing their fear. A fear that Pitch anticipated when he boarded a vessel of roughly 150 Englishmen and took sail to the daunting seas of an unknown continent._

 

_It had been a time of healing for the vengeful spirit, who had recently fell from power by a group of warriors handpicked by the Man in the Moon. Deciding to flee Europe while he could, Pitch entrenched himself in the darkness that hid in the hearts of man. Throughout the journey, the colonists were properly uncomfortable, trapped in a confined space with him. Horrid storms. Meager supplies. Unexplained deaths. Overall, the trip had been a balm to his shattered ego._

 

_What Pitch hadn't planned was arriving and staking claim on territory as he fought off the local spirits believed by the natives. Whilst most lesser beings were easily driven away by his presence, events got bloody shortly after the town mayor sailed back to the British Empire for more supplies. In the winter of 1588, Pitch found himself going head to head with a cannibal god. Needless to say, the dark spirit became somewhat frenzied and his shadows exploded across the lands devouring all living and non-living beings. He was just a tad lonely until John White returned with a crew, only to find that Roanoke Colony went missing without a trace. Casualties of passion and all that...  
_

 

_Nowadays, Swiss and Dutch immigrants are having their turn at surviving in a land bordered with enemies at all sides. Given farming opportunities, they're beginning to realize the threat of a governing body fighting not only among themselves as states, but also retaliating against British rule. Pitch can tell that war is on the rise, with tension heavy in the atmosphere. He, himself, is filled with giddy anticipation. War meant fear. The more fear, the better in his opinion. Humans are such a rich source, easily manipulated and spreading the rot of unease among one another to fester. Although, the best flavor of fear came from the innocent children._

 

_And if Pitch were to be honest about his intentions, he would trade all the fear in the world for something even more potent than that... belief. Fear, what he can sustain himself with as he controls it as a natural affinity, is only a stepping stone to attaining a more powerful source of existence. To be believed. No, no, more than that even!  
_

 

 _Pitch Black wants deeply to be_ worshiped.

 

 _He had been so close to being elevated to God status, with a capital 'G'. Not some lowly deity or afterthought denizen that caters to humans. Something far more. A being that_ humans _would have tocater to! It is a common goal for the ambitious spirits. If Pitch is anything, he is certainly ambitious._

 

_**He Had Been So Close!`** _

 

_'Stars smite those disgusting moon-blessed bastards!' Under the overhang of a thatched roof, Pitch hisses aloud in blind frustration._

 

 _Almost immediately,_ _a_ _n answering hiss spits at him in the night. There comes a sound of a thump and yowl, which draws Pitch’s attention to the sight of a feral cat taking off in the opposite direction. He watches it go with a passive gaze, then lets loose a strangled sigh._  

 

_Daybreak is in less than an hour, the main object of his hatred has already set, allowing him to slip out of his caves to feed within the small window of opportunity. Another thing that keeps him from gaining any sort of real strength -having that blasted sentinel watching his every move and sending the Guardians after him... It's tiring and irritating._

 

_With a roll to his shoulders, Pitch turns to the cabin and eyes it considerably, before stepping close to the wall and passing through the solid object._

 

_It is quiet and cozy inside. He stands silently upon entry, peering around to confirm the presence of offspring. Four pairs of iron skates hang from the wall, and a crudely made rocking horse with a shawl hung on its back by the hearth._

 

_Not much for him to tell, but he is used to the superstitious families from Europe that still hid their little ones in fear of Unseelie making off with them in the witching hour. Only one way to make sure quickly before sunrise. His shadows suddenly leap from him, scuttling along the floors and walls to map the layout. The link shared with them, tells Pitch where the inhabitants of the house lay. On the same level, a small bedroom contains the parents, there's a pantry and room with tools, but no other sleeping quarters… 'So where are the children~?'_

 

_There comes an aborted little shriek of fear from behind. Head tilting slightly to the side, Pitch takes in a deep breath of the scent that rises in jerky integers. A crooked grin twists across his ashen face as his silver eyes flash, locking onto the loft above him._

 

_Pitch takes purposeful steps towards the stairs tucked away in the corner. As the fear soaks into his being, it heightens his senses and allows him to interact with the materialistic world, causing his footfalls to become heavy and echoing. In turn, the sound is picked up by his prey whom releases even more fear~ A viscous and delicious cycle. Reaching the narrow staircase, the tall and slender spirit leans forward and crawls steadily upward. As he approaches, the wooden floorboards creak and groan, his shadows ripple in excitement. He can faintly hear the sound of a breath quickening. The fear grows so sporadically that Pitch Black can now pinpoint the child exactly -their heartbeat pounding in his own head._

 

_At the top of the landing, he crouches in wait. A faint light from a high window causes his angular features to gradually appear. There's a sharp gasp from the center of the loft where makeshift bedding holds two bodies. The silver of his irises flare gold as they land on a frightened girl clutching her quilts._

 

_She can see him~_

 

_Thin lips peal back over sharpened teeth that gleam menacingly. Before she can open that pinched mouth to scream, a shadow whips out from the darkness and grips her own, capturing and silencing the girl in a state that hung her consciousness between wakefulness and sleep._

 

_'Oh sweet sweet thing, hush sweet sweet thing~' Pitch coos in delight. His shadows stretch with the oncoming wave of fear, flailing and wriggling in victory. Their prey is sublime in the chaotic terror that she discharges. More..._

 

_'What shall I do with you now, child?' He climbs into the space of the room, the tips of his long fingers curling like claws. 'Should I shred your soft flesh, or bite off your toes one by one?'_

 

_Without a sound the girl begins to tremble violently, wet droplets sliding along her round cheeks. Pitch basks in the flood of fear greedily._

 

_"Emma?" A rough voice murmurs from behind the girl and an older boy shuffles around. When there's no response he moves into a siting position._

 

_'Goody, another victim awake~'_

 

_A matching heart-shaped face turns and notices his sister's tear stricken face. Alarmed, the male shakes her firmly. "Emma! Are you alright?."_

 

_The shadow holding her captive in paralysis dissolves from the abrupt disturbance and Pitch grunts in annoyance. Fear quakes in the air, like a shivering pet suddenly given a warm blanket. The dark spirit rises to his full height, the shadows slithering to him as he looms above the children in full threat._

 

_"Jackson! It's the Shadow Man!" The girl shrieks on a whisper, whipping around and gripping the front of her brother's nightgown._

 

_Pitch's snarl morphs to surprised pensiveness at her outburst. 'Jack? No...'_

 

_Sure enough, it is the Overland boy. A young man that he shares a complicated fond/irritated relationship with. Well, as much as a relationship that a unseen entity and living human can have. They have never met formally, but Jackson Overland is the village trickster that enjoys scaring the local children with false tales. A moniker often used by him, Shadow Man of the Wooded Creek. The irony is not lost on Pitch who is ninety percent certain that the boy accidentally caught sight of him a few years back, stealing linen which that old witch Helen was drying by the river. Not exactly a fine moment for Pitch, who had needed newer fabric at the time, but young Jack had spun a mesmerizing tale of the Shadow Man who stole Helen's sheets for his dark bidding. In one story he uses them to fix the veil to his sanctuary to keep mortal men out, in another the Shadow Man uses them to weave and extend his shadows. Pitch's favorite is when Jack told the eldest Shiver that the Shadow Man lays a sheet just below the surface of the creek's water to give the illusion of a mother drowning, only to lure in children and strangle them to death. Yes, that is certainly his favorite, the actual theft being far more mysterious than acting as curtains to his chambers._

 

_Yet for all the hype of the Shadow Man that the Overland boy made, there is one annoying thing about him..._

 

 _Blinking several times, Jackson glances down at his sister and then up, brown orbs falling on the ancient creature standing there. The boy looks right at him. Right_ through _him and then snorts with a chortle. "There's nothing there you little flee."_

 

 _Jackson Overland doesn't actually believe in Pitch Black. The boy doesn't_ fear _the Shadow Man. Thus Pitch's wounded pride with his best patron. 'Oh shut your trap you utter gremlin!'_

 

_Of course he isn't heard. The absolute brat with fae kissed lips and mischievous eyes is a torment to his own existence. Some days Pitch wishes to make do with those clever stories and outright strangle Jack with a sheet. But more than not, he's noticed that where others wear youth with blind hopefulness and innocence, there is a tinge of mournful darkness to Jack's soul that the male tries covering with tricks and jokes. It intrigues Pitch. So much so, he often contemplates whisking Jack away and keeping the boy for himself like those sordid eldritch fairy tales of stealing mortal brides. Although, Jack is seemingly too scrawny and childish to be a proper bride for an entity such as he... but it's an idea that pesters him recently, especially as Jack ages.  
_

 

_In his conflicted thoughts, the presence of fear diminishes completely, unable to combat Jack's infectious laughter. Pitch sneers at the thin male, knowing that the human is crossing into the verge of manhood and loosing all belief in the imaginary. No more strength to be shared among the fabled Guardians, which is just a tiny win in the grand scheme of things, because Pitch too would just be a memory of a shade stealing laundry. Such a shame._

 

 _Just then, the Emma checks the loft area again, searching for monsters and finding none. Jack's words acting as a sword that sliced through Pitch's efforts. Already the terrifying event is loosing momentum and leaving a vague nightmare quality behind. Reality over fantasy winning. Her body relaxes and she wipes the tears from her eyes. "Don't make fun of me,_ Jackson _. You're no saint, spinning all these myths. Father Boyle will have you washing that mouth of yours with holy water and verses!"_

 

_With a cringe, Jack shifts uncomfortably on the hay stuffed mattress. He scratches his head with a hum. "Suppose I make it up to you somehow then?"_

 

_A smirk crosses Emma's features. "Suppose you can~."_

 

_Jack's eyes narrow in amusement. "What is it? I can tell you've already decided."_

 

_"Teach me how to skate! We just got new blades and I want to learn more."_

 

_'Skating?' Pitch parrots by the wall, listening in to their conversation so far in boredom. 'Before the final frost?'_

 

_"Hmm. You want to learn that trick I did back at the Yule festival to impress Thomas, eh?"_

 

_Emma's cheeks flush and she shoves the other. "Hush your mouth Jack, just come with me won't you?"_

 

_Pitch sneers and folds his arms. 'Stupid boy. The pond isn’t going to be properly frozen over by tomorrow. Tell her ‘no’!'_

 

_A look of concern curls onto the brother's face as a dark thought settles into him. One of warning. "I-I don't think we should Emma. There's plenty of other things we can do, like trade out old Helen's sugar for salt when she's baking the pastor's apple pies. Maybe even take the Shiver twins up to the graveyard and scare them a bit-"_

 

_"Oh no! That older Shiver would bludgeon you if you dared! And Pa will see to a right beating on your backside for wasting Helen's apples again!"_

 

_Jack barely contains a peal of laughter that escapes his lips._

 

_“Please Jack, please?” The sound of hope weighs in on the girl's words as she begs her brother. It thickens and brightens her expression, undoing the sense of foreboding that took hold of Jack in an instant._

 

_The smug expression on Pitch's face falls when the Shadow Of Fear's hold buckles and shatters from the boy. He is even weaker than he previously thought..._

 

_“Alright, alright! Shhh, no need to wake the town.” Jack jokes, “Ugh, they’ll skin me alive if they find out. We’ll have to sneak away after chores, when Ma is hanging the linen and Pa is in the back pasture with the flock.”_

 

_Emma smiles, large and goofy like her brother’s grin. She throws her arms around him with a laugh. “Thank you!”_

 

_Given up on trying to speak with the children, Pitch leans heavily against the wall swathed in shadows. Silver eyes gleaming, his face is slack and emotionless as he watches both young adults fold their bedding to start their early day. The sun is breaking over the horizon in the East, he can feel it in his essence. Pitch needs to leave soon. Very soon. But he can only stare at Jackson Overland, wondering if this is perhaps the last time Pitch will see the boy again._

 

_“Oh Jack, Jack, Jack~ you’re a fool. Such a little fool.”_

 

_~*Flashback End*~_

 

_~*.*~_

**Author's Note:**

> Please kudos and comment if you enjoy the story! Thanks!


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